


Go Forth; Have No Fear

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Idiots Who Don't Know How To Have Emotions, Mutual Pining, Past Jessie/Max Rockatansky, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Road Trip, Safer Sex, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Unsafer Cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: Furiosa might not have expected to be asked to attend the cross-country wedding of Max's ex-wife with him, but really, she should have expected that at least one thing would go amiss along the way.





	Go Forth; Have No Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loirgris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loirgris/gifts).



> Written for the [2018 Fury Road Exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FuryRoadExchange_III), for [Loirgris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loirgris)\- I hope you like it! I am very sorry for the delay!!!
> 
> Title from X Ambassador's "[Renegades](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSJhrO2Ydao)"

It's another Sunday night which means Furiosa is out at the Atomic bar with Max for their standing not-date of drinks and chatter away from the girls, who are young enough they'd try to turn it into a frenetic night of dancing and merry-making. He was the one to find the bar despite her having lived in Citadel much longer than he has; it's a real hole-in-the-wall, the kind that now and again features live music like the band plunking away in the corner now, the tempo of music at odds with the tension Max has been carrying all night. She can tell he's nervous about something, his mouth drawn tight, his fingers restlessly picking at the label of the cheap beer he claims to like.

During a lull between songs, he finally clears his throat. His eyes flash over to hers, but he drops them back down immediately. "Would you," he says, "I need."

She waits a beat, two. Normally he finds the words on his own but tonight she prompts him when he doesn't speak again. "You need what?" The music starts up, a bouncier song than the previous set.

In a rush he mumbles out, "My ex-wife is getting married. She invited me to the wedding."

Furiosa is stunned into silence by this revelation. She blinks, and glances down at her watering glass of gin and soda. "Okay," she says after a moment. Had she known that Max was married once before? She thinks she had, but had assumed for some reason that it ended with something a touch more tragic than a divorce. She would call them good friends but it's certainly not their usual topic of conversation, an area she hadn't felt the need to press for more information.

"I can't show up alone," Max says, misery dripping off the words. He still isn't looking her in the eye.

"Do you have to show up at all?" she asks before she can think better of the question.

He nods, and takes a swig of his beer.

In the corner, the band starts playing some slow song, singer crooning with her mouth too close to the mic.

"I don't _want_ to go alone," Max says.

"Ah," she says, suddenly seeing the point behind him bringing this up. "And you... want me to go with you?"

He nods, and scratches at his jaw. His beard's getting long again, a sure sign that he's experiencing some inner turmoil. "Just, you know," he says, and sips at his beer, eyes cast away from her. "I could use a friend."

Furiosa contemplates this. She hadn't expected an invitation to be his date, hadn't thought really that that's where he was going with it. It's still a spark of disappointment that she has to squash down. "When is it?"

"Next week," he says, "the twelfth."

"This Friday is not 'next week'," Furiosa says, but shakes her head because his timekeeping skills are a problem for another day. "Where's it being held?"

"Sydney," he says.

"Okay," she says, "We can get a plane from Alice Springs easy enough-" but the look on his face stops her from continuing the thought. He looks guilty, embarrassed. "You're not willing to fly, are you?"

Max hesitates, then shakes his head. "Sorry," he mumbles, "But planes..."

She lets her eyes close for a beat longer than necessary. It's at _least_ two days of straight driving to reach Sydney from where they are, though she'd need to check a map to be sure. And if the wedding is on Friday- "You're so lucky I can set my own hours," Furiosa says, the annoyance only partly fake.

"Will you?" he says, voice quiet, shoulders drawn in towards himself.

"Yes, Max," she says, and downs the rest of her glass, setting it down on the table with a loud _thunk_. "I'll go with you."

 

* * *

 

"I need some advice," Furiosa says into the phone, sandwiched between her cheek and her shoulder because her only hand is busy clawing through her wardrobe. Does she even _have_ anything suitable to attend a wedding in?

"The answer is yes," Valkyrie replies easily. "What's up?"

"I'm going to a wedding," Furiosa says. "What in the hell do I wear?"

"Who's getting married?" Valkyrie asks, "Anyone I know? Oh! Are Capable and Nux finally eloping?"

Furiosa rolls her eyes. "No, it's no one you know."

"Then who?"

"Max's ex-wife," she says.

There's a moment of silence, and then Valkyrie is saying, "Wait, what? He was married?"

"Apparently," Furiosa says. She's found the single skirt she owns, a thing made of some kind of clingy knit that she can't actually imagine wearing, or understand why she hasn't gotten rid of it yet. Slacks it is.

"So wait, are you going as his _date_?"

"Just moral support," she says, and doesn't feel disappointed about that fact. She knows that what she has with Max is a valuable friendship, even if that's not all she wishes it was. But Max doesn't feel the same, had specifically mentioned they would be going as friends.

"Bullshit," Valkyrie says, "You don't invite just _anyone_ to your ex's wedding."

Furiosa rolls her eyes and reminds herself that Valkyrie hasn't seen them interact for more than a few days at a time on the few occasions she blows into town. "Help me with my outfit," she says to get them back on track.

Valkyrie lets out a disgusted noise but then goes obediently quiet for a moment as she thinks. "You still have that dress? The black one with the sparkles?"

"Nah," Furiosa says with a shake of her head. She'd worn it exactly once and then realized that it was definitely not her style, and donated it to a thrift shop. "I have some okay pants, but mostly work clothes."

"Well don't wear them," Valkyrie says, as if that was a real danger. "Is it a dressy wedding? Casual? Daytime, nighttime?"

"I don't know," Furiosa admits. Max hadn't been forthcoming with the details, not that she had thought to ask.

Valkyrie sighs. "Really? Alright, well, you can never be _over_ dressed," she says.

"I'm not buying anything new," Furiosa says, even though she might have to if she can't find anything suitable already in her closet. But even as she thinks this, a flash of white hidden in the back catches her eye, and she pulls out a simple white blouse. "Wait, I think I have something," she says, casting a critical eye over the shirt. It's not ripped or stained or even horribly wrinkled, which sets it far above her other options. There's a bit of semi-sheer material at the shoulders and the buttons only start about halfway down but there's not too much frippery, no lace or ruffles or sequins.

"What is it?" Valkyrie asks. "This would have been better if you did a video call."

"I'll send you a picture," Furiosa says. "It's just a white blouse, but I think it'll work."

She sets the shirt down on the bed and then ends the call with Valkyrie, because her phone won't let her send messages and hold a phone call at the same time. She snaps a picture and sends it off.

>Looks good!< Valkyrie texts back a moment later. >Black pants?<

>Yeah< Furiosa sends. She already knows she has black slacks, which will go with anything.

>Shoes??< Valkyrie asks, and sends along a few obnoxious shoe emojis with the message.

Furiosa contemplates this. Her work boots are out of the question for obvious reasons. The sandals she wears to the beach are probably too casual, as are her running shoes, which leaves her with a ratty pair of flats or the single pair of heels that she owns.

With a sigh, she drags out the heels and sets them next to the blouse on her bed. She sends a picture to Valkyrie, and waits for the response.

>!!!< Valkyrie texts back, along with a thumbs-up emoji.

>I'll be taller than Max if I wear them.< Furiosa tells her.

>Fuck that you're taller than him anyway< Valkyrie sends.

It's not untrue, and really, is she the type to worry over being too tall? If Max was the type to feel emasculated by standing next to a woman taller than him, she wouldn't like him the way she does, enough to dress up and go off on a road trip to his ex-wife's wedding with barely a day's notice.

Furiosa packs the shoes, and the blouse and slacks, along with more comfortable clothes she'll wear for the trip there and back. She could shell out for a plane ticket and just meet Max there, she knows, but then he'd have no one to take turns driving with, and he'd likely end up missing it entirely.

 

* * *

 

They set out early the next morning before the sun is properly up. Max picks her up and she sets her suitcase in the boot alongside his, a battered canvas thing she would bet he's either had forever or else picked up at a charity shop a day ago.

"We could take my truck," Furiosa says even as she climbs into the passenger seat. His car isn't really the sort that's practical for long-distances like this, not that her truck is either. She doesn't want to think about how much gas is going to cost them.

Max frowns at her and says nothing. Normally the look would be playful, a mock affront at the perceived slight to his ride, but this time there's too much tension in his frame for the expression to be anything but genuine disgruntlement.

They ride in silence for a few hours, just the idle droning of the radio to keep them company.

She doesn't mind the silence, knows he doesn't mind it either. There's a comfortableness that comes with being in his company, an ease which she only rarely gets around other people.

Around noon they stop to eat and switch drivers, though Max half-heartedly attempts to convince her he can keep going.

"We've got a long ride ahead of us," Furiosa points out. "Might as well switch while we're both fresh."

The first time she ever drove his car, she took care not to touch more than she had to. Not to adjust his settings, or fiddle with the radio, or even truly let herself set her whole weight onto the seat. Now she takes a moment to get the mirrors set, and pulls the seat a little further from the pedals- Max drives with it so far forward it's a wonder his knees don't jam against the steering wheel- and she flips the radio station away from his preset, which was starting to crackle and fade anyway with the distance they've put in.

Max bears this with silence, only a slight frown tugging at his lips telling her he still hasn't let go of all his possessiveness.

They drive for a while, the rolling landscape unending between ever-more-infrequent rest stops.

"'M thinking about getting a dog," Max offers up at one point.

She hums, because he's always thinking about getting a dog, and always thinking of ways why it wouldn't work out to convince himself out of the idea again.

"Maybe not, though," he says, right on cue.

"You have one in mind?" Furiosa says. The leather of his steering wheel is warm against her palm, and she considers the idea of Max and a dog. He likes them, she knows, always perks up when one walks down the sidewalk, and they in turn like him as well, fawning over him easily as he scratches behind their ears and tells them what good dogs they are. She's thought about getting a cat, sometimes, something living to come home to, but she doesn't much like cats. Doesn't much like dogs, either, but it's not her adopting one.

From the corner of her eye she can see Max shaking his head. "There's a shelter not too far from me," he says, and raises his shoulder in a shrug. "It's a thought."

"Mhm," she hums in agreement. One of these days he'll actually go for it and get one, she's sure, and maybe when that happens he'll stop acting like he hasn't started putting down roots in Citadel.

They lapse into silence again, just the sound of the radio over the engine. Furiosa rolls down the window a crack and lets the air blast over her, hot and dry. His air conditioning will fail sooner or later, she is sure, but for now the inside of the car is a comfortable temperature and she just wants some fresh air.

"What's her name?" she finally asks, because she doesn't know even that much about the person who's wedding she's going to.

Max looks startled when she glances at him.

"Your ex," she says.

"Ah," he says, and clears his throat. "Jess. Jessie."

Furiosa nods, taking the new information and filing away. She's tried not to think about his wife, now that she knows said wife isn't a distant, dead memory, but she can't help her curiosity. What sort of a woman will she be, that Max married her? What sort of a woman was she that Max divorced her? Or- was it her who divorced him?

She still can't get over the fact that he's divorced. That he gave up on the relationship when he's normally stubborn and possessive down to his core. It must have been this Jessie's idea, she thinks. But still he would have had to agree to it...

"Guy she's marrying is named Clark," Max says. "Clark Samuels."

"You know him?" she asks.

He shakes his head, and doesn't offer any more information.

Furiosa is itching to ask questions, to find out what happened between him and his wife- they couldn't have parted on such terrible terms, if she invited him to her new wedding, unless it was meant as a taunt? A mere courtesy she didn't expect him to take her up on?

"They know we're coming?" she says, suddenly wary of being an intruder in another person's life.

"Yeah," he says, "I wrote back to her. Just a reply. RSVP." She relaxes again.

They switch positions again after eating at another shitty rest stop, this one barely more than a picnic bench and a tree for shade. The sun's going down, a long golden-red glow across the plains of dirt and shrubs they're driving through. They're really in the outback by now, nothing much around for hundred of kilometers except dirt and animals.

"Tell me about her?" Furiosa says when the road ahead is relatively straight and clear of traffic.

She watches Max's hands clench down on the steering wheel, the way the muscles in his arms shift under his skin exposed by his short sleeves.

With a deliberateness that she can see, he relaxes himself. "She likes flowers, and pink," he says with a shrug. "Did, anyway."

It's not the type of information she was hoping he would share and she's sure he knows this. Still, she elects not to push him yet. They'll have plenty of time in the car together before they arrive.

"She plays the saxophone," Max says, quietly. "She's a teacher. Elementary." She glances over at him and there's a strange expression on his face, sad and bereft.

Furiosa shifts in place uncomfortably, suddenly unsure she wants to hear.

He shakes his head minutely and readjusts his grip on the wheel.

"How long has it been?" she asks, her voice pitched quietly enough that he could decide to ignore it, if he wanted.

For a long moment she thinks that's what he's decided to do, to ignore her question. Then Max clears his throat and says, "Nearly fifteen years, now."

Furiosa is surprised by the length of time that's elapsed. Max is about the same age as her, which means fifteen years ago he would have been perhaps twenty three. "You were young," she says.

He grunts. "I don't want to, to talk about this," he says.

"Okay," she agrees, immediately backing away from the topic. She can see it a little more clearly now though, she thinks. Married young, perhaps too young to really know what they were doing. Not such a big surprise that things hadn't worked out, really.

Furiosa drives for a while past dark, Max a curled up shape in the passenger seat next to her, jacket slung around himself like a blanket. He looks small in a way she isn't used to with him, almost peaceful with the lack of his usual constant motion.

When he wakes up with a jerk and a gasp, she recognizes the look in his wide eyes, and pulls into the next rest stop.

"I'll drive," he says, voice thick with sleep.

Furiosa hums in acceptance, expecting the offer. She's due to drive the next few hours, but she already knows he won't be going back to sleep, not after whatever dream it was that woke him.

She settles herself into the space warmed by his body while he gets a cup of coffee, wondering if she'll be able to sleep herself. She doesn't like sleeping in moving cars, doesn't like the disorientation of waking up someplace else from where she went to sleep, but it would be smarter to get what rest she can.

"Here," Max says, and holds his jacket out over the space between the seats. He's not looking at her, eyes instead focused on the cardboard cup of coffee in his other hand.

Furiosa takes the jacket, surprised by the offer. "Thanks," she says. The jacket is heavy and warm, dense leather worn supple over the years he's had it. It covers her up more than she's expecting; for all that they're the same height, Max is build broader than her, shoulders taking up more room.

They get back on the road, the highway deserted in this midnight hour except by animals who skitter by in the dark. Surrounded by the scent and presence of Max, the sound of the radio turned down almost unintelligibly low, Furiosa drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up far later than she thought she would, the sun already fully risen in the sky. Max glances over at her as she stirs.

"You let me sleep," she croaks out, her throat dry. She stretches herself against the seat and sits further upright, blinking the sleep away from her eyes.

He hums and says, "I wasn't tired."

Furiosa lets herself spend a little time actually waking up, still ensconced in his jacket, before she suggests they find someplace to have breakfast. She leaves her prosthesis off when they amble into the rest stop- this one with an actual roadhouse for fresh food- and mourns for the lack of shower facilities this far out.

"We made better time than I thought," she says as she surveys their map and their current position on their planned route.

Max shrugs. "No traffic at night."

She would bet good money that he also pushed the accelerator heavier than necessary, either trying to shake off whatever he saw in his dreams or just enjoying the freedom of kilometers of empty road and no other souls around. Lucky they didn't run into a kangaroo or something, she thinks.

They eat, and get changed in the restrooms, and are back on the road within the hour. Furiosa straps her prosthesis back into place for her turn at the wheel, and struggles with the annoyance of needing to reach across herself with her right arm to reach the cupholder every time she wants a sip of coffee.

"This is why we should have taken my truck," she grouses. She can shift well enough with her prosthesis, but there are reasons why she prefers her right-sided drive truck over Max's left-handed one.

Max makes a contemplative noise and then after a moment says, "We could get you a straw. A long one."

She sends him a flat look out of the corner of her eye, but he's smiling softly, more relaxed than he was the day before, and she feels her mouth curling into an answering smile.

"Not on your life," Furiosa says lightly.

"Maybe one of those hats," he says, and this makes her snort in amusement even as she shakes her head to deny the very thought.

The day passes much like the one before it, with only the changing terrain to keep them from going completely mad with boredom.

 

* * *

 

It's only when they start getting close to Sydney that traffic develops, and Max's tension starts creeping back in. When they're forced to slow down the car's already uncertain air conditioning fails, so their windows are rolled down all the way, letting in exhaust and the smell of hot tarmac as well as the faint sound of other people's music and conversations.

Furiosa is riding passenger again, gaze distant as she idly contemplates the cars around them. For a little while they'd been stuck next to a van of screaming children, but they've turned off onto an exit ramp by now.

She's uncertain if she's glad to be back among humanity again, after spending the last day and a half out in the bush. It's peaceful out there, but here there's the promise of showers and fresh food, so it about evens itself out.

 

* * *

 

They arrive at the hotel they're staying at in the late afternoon the day before the wedding and grab their bags from the car before going to check in.

"Room 534," the clerk says cheerfully, holding out a pair of keycards.

"And hers?" Max asks, shifting the weight of his duffle against his shoulder.

The clerk's smile falters. "You're booked for a single room?"

"Did you put it under my name?" Furiosa asks, stepping up to the counter. She'd had Max make the arrangements with the hotel, since it was him who'd sprung the trip on her with such little notice. "Furiosa Jobassa."

The clerk taps away at their computer for a minute before shaking their head apologetically. "Sorry, there's no reservation under that name."

"I booked two rooms," Max says.

"Are there two beds in the room?" Furiosa asks.

The clerk nods. "Two full-sized beds, yes."

"Great," she says, "We'll just share."

Max frowns at her, a question written across his face.

"I'm tired and I don't care," Furiosa tells him. "Unless you have a problem with it?"

Max silently contemplates this, before shrugging. "Fine," he says. They take the keycards from the apologetic clerk and head for the elevator.

The room is nothing special, two beds and a table and a television sitting on a cheap dresser. Furiosa sets her suitcase down on the bed nearest the window and, despite the fact that she's been sitting down for nearly two days straight, feels grateful to sit down on the mattress. There's something about a surface that isn't moving that feels restful.

Max frowns at the room as he looks around and doesn't sit. "I'm gonna take a walk," he says after a minute.

"Sure," she says, and when he just stands there she says, "You want company?"

That breaks him out of his reverie and he shakes his head. He slips his keycard into his pocket and gives her a nod before leaving, the door locking behind him with a nearly-silent click.

Furiosa lies down on the bed and stares at the ceiling. Sharing a room with Max will be slightly awkward, she's sure, but she's managed worse. They'll just have to take turns getting ready in the bathroom in the morning before the wedding.

The wedding, where she'll be meeting Max's ex-wife she hadn't even known existed until a few days ago. She wonders what the woman will be like, what sort of a person would have captivated Max enough for him to marry her and then, apparently, leave her. Or get left by her.

Furiosa sighs and gets off the bed. Maybe a walk is a good idea, a little exercise to shake off the inertia of sitting in a car for so long.

 

* * *

 

It's nearly dark by the time Max comes back to the hotel room, a long enough period of time that Furiosa had started to get worried. He looks no more settled now than when he'd left, and she wonders if he'll be able to go through with things tomorrow.

"I already ate, sorry," she says when he sits down heavily on the other bed.

He grunts and shrugs, and leans down to work his shoes off his feet. Furiosa mutes the television and turns in her seat to face him.

"Hey," she says, "You okay?"

In reply he lets out a breath, heavy, and rubs over his face with his hands. "She's getting married tomorrow," he says.

"Yeah," Furiosa says. "You gonna be okay? We don't have to go."

Max turns to look at her and she's relieved that it doesn't look like he's been crying or having severe emotional breakdowns in the time he was away. "I need to," he says with a shake of his head. "I need to see she's happy."

She can't say that she really understands the impulse, but then, she was never in a serious enough relationship before to even contemplate marriage, let alone go through with it. "Okay," she says.

When he doesn't say anything else for a good thirty seconds, Furiosa unmutes the tv just to break the oppressive silence in the room. Max uncurls from himself a little bit and they watch the movie that's playing to the end credits, neither saying anything.

When the movie's over she stands up and passes him the remote. "I'm gonna take a shower and call it a night."

He hums, and she gathers up her pajamas before heading for the bathroom. It's strange to be naked with Max just a thin wall away, to think that he'll be the one getting naked when it's his turn to shower, but she shakes the thought away and focuses only on soaping herself up.

When she leaves the bathroom Max has made himself a little more at home than just perching on the edge of the mattress. He's halfway through a granola bar and looks up when she emerges into the room.

"All yours," Furiosa says with a nod towards the bathroom.

He grunts in reply and she puts her dirty clothes over by her suitcase before getting into bed.

"What time are we getting up tomorrow?" she asks when he doesn't immediately rush to the bathroom.

Max shrugs, and pulls the granola bar from his mouth. "Wedding's at noon."

She considers this. "We want to leave here by ten, then," she decides.

He nods and goes back to his granola bar. When it's finished he gets up and grabs his own sleeping clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

It's just as strange to hear the water start up and think about him being naked in there as she expected it would be. Furiosa shuts off the television and sets an alarm on her phone for nine, enough time to get them up and out.

Max smells like the exact same hotel toiletries as she used when he returns to the room, shirt clinging damply to his body and hair all mussed up. "Should I shave?" he asks, hand going up to rub at the stubble on his face.

It's a rare occasion for him to shave bare, in her experience knowing him; his facial hair usually vacillates between a short beard and long stubble. He'd trimmed it down before leaving but two days on the road have left him undeniably whiskery.

"Did you shave back then?" Furiosa asks, studying his face now that she has the excuse. She likes how he looks with a bit of facial hair, how it makes his lips stand out, the edge of roughness it adds to his appearance.

He nods.

"Keep it," she says. It'll help everyone remember that he's not the person he was back when he was married to this Jessie, whether that ends up being a good thing or not.

He considers this advice and then nods again, accepting the decision.

 

* * *

 

They wake up and get ready in the morning mostly in silence. It's strange to have another person to work herself around- her days of rooming with Valkyrie are long past- and she's never seen Max like this, save when he napped in the car the other day. His hair sticks up outrageously when he wakes up and he pouts and grumbles as he drags himself out of bed, obviously not a morning person.

Furiosa is ready well before him, bags already packed- they'd decided to head back home immediately, rather than staying another night after.

When he returns from getting changed in the bathroom he looks more awake. "You look good," he says, regarding her frankly where she sits on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks," she says, caught off guard by the appreciation that flickers in his eyes. "You too." He does; he's wearing a pale blue button-down and khakis, which is a striking change from his usual denim. There's a blazer in his arms but he hasn't put it on, and no tie in sight.

Max nods and nervously folds and refolds the blazer where it hangs off the crook of his elbow.

"You'll wrinkle it if you keep doing that," she says.

He grunts and his hands still. He takes a deep breath and she notices that the tips of his ears are red, that his eyes are once again unable to meet her own gaze. "I need a favor," he says. "Want. Not need."

Furiosa tilts her head, curious and confused about what he's working himself up about now. They're already here, aren't they?

"People are going to think," he says, and his eyes dart to hers before dropping again. "They'll think you're my _date_." Oh, she thinks. She hadn't thought of that. "Can you just, just not say we aren't? Just let them think."

She turns that thought over in her mind, surprised by it. He wants her to pretend she's his date, not his friend? "You could have asked Angharad if you wanted someone you could show off," she says. Sure, Angharad is younger than him by a good few years, but isn't that what men want to shove in their ex-wives' faces? Some pretty young thing fawning over them?

Max shakes his head. "Forget it," he says. "I just thought- sorry."

"No," she says slowly, "I'll do it." What does it matter to her if people thousands of klicks away think they're dating? It's not like it's real, isn't like it'll follow them back home. All she has to do is not break the illusion that they're there as partners rather than friends and she'll be saving him some embarrassment.

"Thanks," he says, and clears his throat gruffly. "It, uh, it means a lot."

She thinks that might be laying it on a bit thick, but she nods in acknowledgement. "Of course," she says, "What are friends for?"

They eat breakfast at the hotel before checking out, the usual fare of burnt coffee and stale bagels at least filling.

"You know how to get to this place?" Furiosa asks when they set out again, car packed and ready for a quick getaway. Some part of her is worried that Max will panic and bolt, missing the wedding entirely, but she doesn't think it's a pressing enough danger to force him to let her drive.

He hums in answer and she pulls out the map, just in case.

They spend more than an hour looking for the place, and Furiosa feels justified in their early start. Eventually though the address points them to a function hall not far from the beach, the breeze laden with brine and summer sunshine. Already there are some cars in the parking lot, enough that she doesn't think they'll be unwelcomely early.

Max cuts the engine and then sits there looking petrified.

Furiosa lets him have a minute, then reaches over and puts her hand on his where it's still clutching the wheel. They don't generally touch very much, but she's hoping the contact will ground him.

"You might as well," she says, and his nostrils flare as he inhales, turning to face her. She keeps her expression calm and reassuring, and after a moment he nods, sharp.

She feels a bit strange standing next to him in her heels; she's a good half a head taller like this, when it's usually a negligible difference. Max continues to show no signs of being bothered by it.

The function hall is decorated simply, with ample flowers and some white fabric wrapped around the posts holding up the roof. One side of the space is entirely without walls, opening right up onto a deck area a few meters from the shore. The air is filled with salt and the sound of waves lapping at the sand underneath some soft classical music piped in from somewhere.

There's a couple in front of them exchanging greetings and congratulations with another set of people that Furiosa can't see clearly, obscured as they are by the couple. Then the couple moves away and reveals a man and a woman, standing next to each other and smiling. Max lets out a strange, strangled noise.

"Hello," the woman says, no recognition in her tone. She's wearing a pale pink dress, nothing overly formal, but by the air of excitement about her Furiosa can only assume that this is Jessie.

Max clears his throat and steps closer. "Jess," he says, confirming her suspicions of the woman's identity.

There's a moment of silence as Jessie visibly wracks her memories to place him, and then her mouth falls open with a soft "Oh."

Besides her the man- Clark, hadn't Max said his name was?- looks between them, confused, his smile faltering.

"Max, is that really you?" Jessie says.

Max nods and clears his throat again. "Congratulations," he says.

"Sorry, I don't think we've been introduced?" Clark says, an arm sliding around Jessie's waist possessively.

"This is Max," Jessie says, "I told you about him. He's my first husband."

"Ah," Clark says. "We didn't think you'd really show."

Max shrugs and says nothing.

"Thank you for inviting us," Furiosa says, drawing attention to herself.

"Oh!" Jessie says, "Yes, of course. I'm Jessie, and this is Clark."

"Furiosa," Furiosa says. "It's nice to meet you."

"Max, we should catch up," Jessie says, but Clark starts talking over her.

"Please enjoy the party," he says, "Seating's open, just grab a spot and fill up at the buffet."

The couple exchange a look, Jessie annoyed, Clark with enough innocence that it has to be faked.

"We'll let you greet the other guests," Furiosa says, making the decision for them. There's another few people behind them already and the room is mostly empty, clearly waiting for more well-wishers to fill it up.

Jessie nods and smiles at them again, while Clark looks mildly disgruntled. Furiosa supposes she can't blame him, considering the circumstances. She hooks her arm around Max's and tugs him away, needing a decent amount of strength at first to get him to budge before he starts following her.

"You _did_ tell them we were coming, right?" she asks again, her voice pitched low.

Max blinks and looks at her in confusion, mind still obviously distracted by the sight of his ex-wife.

Furiosa takes them to an unoccupied table and releases her grip on his arm. They can see Jessie and Clark from here easily as they greet more guests, looking happy and in love.

"I guess we missed the ceremony?" Furiosa says, since nothing was said about it when they arrived, which she would have assumed would be the important part of the day.

Max grunts. It's about all the communication she's hoping for, at least until they're back on the road with today behind them.

After a while Furiosa goes and fills up a plate with food, because it's there and it's less awkward than sitting around in silence. She brings it back to the table- still empty, which isn't a surprise, considering how they must be outliers among the party- with a second set of utensils for Max to pick at the food with.

"You can get the drinks," she says when she sits down, because he at least has two hands to hold them with.

He stabs at one of the meatballs on the plate in silence, then nods and gets up.

A stranger approaches the table- they're all strangers, Furiosa thinks with slight apprehension, though Max might have known a few from his time. "Are you from the groom's side?" the person says with a smile, hand resting on the back of a chair like he's asking for permission to sit.

"No," Furiosa says with a shake of her head. "We know the bride."

Max returns with two glasses in his hands; lemonade, by the looks of it. She can't decide whether she'd like it to be spiked or not.

"Aha," the person says. "How do you know her?" He pulls out the chair and sits down, still smiling benignly. "What a lovely venue this is, isn't it?"

Furiosa glances at Max, who seems inclined to say nothing. "Yes, it's lovely," she says, but the man continue to look at her eagerly, waiting for an answer to their first question. She doesn't want to make things uncomfortable for Max, but she doesn't really feel like lying, either.

"What about you?" she asks, "Are you here for the bride, or the groom?"

"Oh, I'm one of Clark's cousins," the man says. "James."

"Nice to meet you," Furiosa says, though in reality she thinks she'd rather be left alone. "I'm Furiosa, and this is Max."

Max grunts and takes a sip of his lemonade. Not spiked, which may have been a smart move considering they planned to get back on the road as soon as the event is over.

James tries to chatter at them for a little while longer, but eventually gets bored of their non-answers and when he leaves to get a plate of food, he disappears to another table entirely.

Eventually, the flow of guests trickles to a halt and Jessie and Clark move from their post at the doorway, instead mingling with people seated and standing. Furiosa keeps an eye on them, waiting for them to approach their table.

It takes them a while, but eventually Jessie and Clark come to a stop in front of their still-empty table. Jessie immediately plunks herself down on one of the chairs, while Clark stays standing, hovering next to her.

"So," Jessie says, "It's been so long, I can't believe you're really here! Max, how have you been?"

Max takes a sip of his lemonade and clears his throat. "I've been okay," he says.

"That's good," Jessie says wit a faint smile. "I worried about you, you know?"

He shrugs.

"So, Max, what is it you do?" Clark asks.

Max shifts in place, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I work at a nursery," he says. "Plants."

"That's good," Jessie says. "Less stressful than the force, I imagine."

Max shrugs again.

"And you?" Clark says, "Furious, was it?"

"Furiosa," she corrects. "I manage a hardware store. And you?" She doesn't care one whit about this man's career, but he's apparently interested in swapping details, and she knows he's itching to show off. Normally she would deliberately deny him the chance and make him bring it up himself, but she's trying to be polite, considering the current company.

"I'm a broker at City Pacific," Clark says with the smugness Furiosa was expecting. As if having an office job makes him better than someone working on their feet.

"You're over in the Northern Territory now, aren't you?" Jessie asks Max, directing the conversation back his way.

Max nods.

"I hear it's nice there in the winter," Jessie says.

"It's different from Sydney, that's for sure," Furiosa says when Max makes no attempt at answering beyond a shrug.

"Most places are," Jessie says with a smile. She seems to be relaxing as the conversation goes on, while Clark has yet to lose the alertness, like he's waiting for Jessie to swoon over Max and leave him in the dust.

"How long have you been together?" Jessie asks, looking between them with an open expression, clearly not unhappy with the idea of Max dating again.

"Er," Max says, and glances Furiosa's way.

She puts her hand over his on the table and smiles. "Nearly a year now," she says. A year ago was when he introduced her to Atomic, and it hadn't taken long for it to become their weekly hangout.

Jessie smiles and says she's happy for them, and seems to honestly mean it. Furiosa isn't sure she'd be able to feel the same if she was in Jessie's position.

Jessie asks after someone Max apparently knows, drawing him back into the conversation like pulling teeth. It's strange to watch the two of them interact, to watch the realization unfold that they're essentially strangers to each other now. Fifteen years apart is a long time, and Furiosa doesn't know how long they knew each other before their marriage, but she doesn't think it was quite so long as that.

After some more pleasantries Jessie and Clark are accosted by another person come looking for them and they leave the table to continue chatting with their guests, the ones who actually know them.

"She seems nice," Furiosa says conversationally. She's had to put in next to no effort to pretend to be his date for real; it seems that just sitting next to him and not declaring herself as _just_ his friend is enough to brand her girlfriend material, and she's amused by the assumption. Valkyrie would be livid at the heteronormativity, she thinks.

Max grunts and abruptly stands up from his seat. She watches apprehensively but he only goes to get another drink for the both of them.

"Thanks," she says when she accepts the glass, slick and cold with condensation. "Did you want to say hello to anyone?" She can guess that he must know some of Jessie's family and friends, might want to reconnect a little after more than a decade.

He shakes his head, though, and stays firmly in his seat.

Someone starts hitting a fork against their glass and soon the entire function hall is ringing, until the noise dies down to a sudden quiet.

Furiosa follows the sightlines of the people around them until she lays eyes on a man standing up with a glass in hand, next to a seated Jessie and Clark. The speech that the man launches into isn't particularly inspired, but it's clear that he means what he's saying as he praises his friend Clark and congratulates him on marrying Jessie.

One toast opens the door for another, but thankfully they peter out after only a few.

The music, which had at that point been mostly a faint suggestion of instruments, abruptly changes. It's louder and has a real beat and someone pointedly shouts out, "Dance!"

The cry is quickly taken up and soon Jessie and Clark make their way to the open area between tables, Jessie laughing openly. It's clear they haven't planned for this, haven't practiced a first dance. They mostly just sway together to the music in each others' arms.

They look good together, Furiosa thinks. Jessie's curly brown hair a contrast to Clark's slicked back blond locks, the difference in their heights and builds. They look happy, like they're in love.

She looks away from them to look at Max, and to her surprise he doesn't look as moody as she would have expected. He's clearly not delighted, not that she blames him, but he doesn't look like he's still yearning for his ex-wife.

"Doing okay?" Furiosa asks anyway.

He shrugs, and twirls his empty glass between his hands. "Cake'll be soon," he says.

"The most important part," she says.

Max sends her a look, but his lips quirk up at her joke anyway. She's glad to see him even somewhat relaxed, after the worst case scenarios she'd been contemplating on the ride down.

The song changes to something with more of a beat, and more people join the dance floor.

"I'll be back," Furiosa says, and makes her way towards the bathrooms.

When she leaves the stall to wash her hands- well, wash the one, and use a wipe on the other because her prosthesis doesn't play nicely with water- she sees Jessie standing at another sink, idly arranging her hair in the mirror.

Furiosa exchanges a nod of acknowledgement with her, but is surprised when Jessie actually starts speaking to her.

"I wanted to thank you for bringing Max here," she says.

Furiosa looks over at her, eyes connecting through the mirror. She shrugs. "He brought me, honestly. He said he wanted to see that you were happy."

"I am," Jessie says, and smiles, turning away from the mirror to face her fully. "Clark's a good man, I'm lucky to have him."

Furiosa nods, though she hasn't formed any real opinion of Clark in the brief time she's known him.

"And I'm glad Max has someone now, too," Jessie says, "Things were so bad after, well..." She trails off, a shadow flickering across her expression before she flicks her head to dismiss it. "I'm glad he's found someone."

"I'm lucky to know him," she settles on. She's glad they decided on the ruse if it means Jessie feels better about how Max is doing, but outright lying about their relationship makes her feel uncomfortable if she doesn't need to.

Jessie smiles at her. "Are you staying in town long? It's been so long since Max and I saw each other, and I'd like to get to know you, too."

"Oh, sorry," Furiosa says with a shake of her head. "We weren't planning to stay. I can ask Max if he wants to stick around?"

"That's alright," Jessie says easily. Furiosa wonders if the offer had been as genuine as it seemed, or if Jessie is simply the type to have mastered false sincerity. "Maybe another time. At least we have each other's address now."

Just then another person enters the bathroom, breaking their moment of privacy.

"I should head back out there," Jessie says.

"Congratulations again," Furiosa says, and gets a beaming smile in reply before Jessie slips out the door. She spends another few moments making sure her prosthesis is well and dry before heading back out into the main hall as well.

The dancing is in full swing by now, tables pushed to the sides to allow room for people to twirl around on the floor with gleeful abandon. Furiosa makes her way through the crowd to return to their table, pleased to see that Max hasn't been accosted in her absence.

There's a pair of cake slices at the table now, one already started in on and the other untouched.

"Thanks," Furiosa says, and picks up the fork in order to take a bite. She looks at Max out of the corner of her eye as she eats, wondering what would have prompted Jessie to sound so relieved that he's found another woman to date. It must have been Jessie's idea to divorce, she decides.

He sends her a quizzical glance when he picks up on her looks, and she takes the chance to put on a teasing smile. "Feel like dancing?"

Max shakes his head, but then pauses. "Do _you_ wanna dance?" he asks, like he's asking if she wants to step on a slug barefoot.

"Nah," she says. She'd suggested it mostly to have something to say, though she wouldn't have minded if he had wanted to. But Max, in her experience, dances only on very rare occasions, ones usually involving alcohol and persistent young women with puppy-dog eyes.

They stay at their little table another half hour or so, until the party seems to be winding down and they can probably take their leave. Furiosa has no intention of ever telling Max this, but she's proud of how he handled things. He actually showed up, and was passingly social when engaged, and hasn't shown any signs that he wants anything from Jessie other than her happiness.

"We should get on the road soon," Furiosa says, and he grunts in agreement.

When he gets up she follows his lead, faintly surprised that instead of just marching for the door he winds their way through the crowd to the table where Jessie is sitting, Clark at her side.

"I'm happy for you," Max says with a nod.

"Thank you," Jessie says, a soft smile lighting up her face. She really is quite pretty and well-demeanored; Furiosa can see how Max fell in love with her all those years ago. "It was good to see you."

He nods, then flicks a look towards Clark. "Be good to her," he says.

"Of course," Clark says, looking mildly offended that anything else was suggested.

"It was nice meeting you," Furiosa says.

"You as well!" Jessie says, "The next time you're in Sydney you should look us up."

"That would be nice," Furiosa says, though she has no idea if she'll ever be back here in the first place. Jessie smiles like she understands, and Furiosa thinks that just for that they might actually have been friends, had they lived near one another.

When the goodbyes are finished she and Max return to the car, where he immediately shucks the blazer and loosens another button on his shirt.

"We should find someplace to get changed," Furiosa says, contemplating her own outfit. It's comfortable enough, but not something she wants to spend the rest of the day in if she's just going to be driving.

Max shrugs and gets the car into gear, sending one last long look towards the function hall behind them before turning into the flow of traffic.

 

* * *

 

They do stop to change clothes before very long, and Furiosa lets out a sigh of relief to be back in her comfortable shoes rather than the heels.

Max says practically nothing the entire rest of the day, and she lets him be. What must it be like to see your ex-spouse getting married? And after fifteen years apart, no less. She doesn't really have a frame of reference for it, and she knows that Max needs to work through things at his own pace, that trying to talk about it before he's ready will just send him for the hills.

She's surprised, then, when he speaks not long after dark. "She looked good," he says. "Happy."

Furiosa hums an agreement. "She was lovely," she says, and keeps to herself her understanding of how a younger Max might have fallen in love with her. She doubts he wants to revisit their relationship in very much detail.

"Guy's kinda an asshole, though," he mumbles, and Furiosa lets out a snort.

"He was just defensive," she says, "Can you blame him?"

Max sends her a confused look, and she considers the very likely possibility that Max doesn't see how he'd be anything to get defensive over. He doesn't see his own handsomeness, the easy physicality he carries with him, how in another lifetime he might have won Jessie back just by exerting himself a little. No wonder Clark- a decently-attractive man, sure, but nothing particularly special to her eye- had gotten his hackles up around Max.

They lapse back into silence, broken only to comment on a particular song and to suggest they switch off the wheel at the next rest stop.

Unfortunately not long after that, an echoing popping noise sounds out and smoke, white and dense in their headlights, starts pouring out from under the bonnet.

Max swears and pulls off to the side of the highway.

"Smells like coolant," Furiosa says. The smoke is sweet-tinged, like pancake syrup, and copious enough that this isn't a small leak.

He sighs and puts the hazard lights on as they come to a stop on the road's shoulder. No one else is in sight on the dark stretch of highway, and she joins him as he leaves the car to get a look under the hood.

The smoke does indeed seem to be coming out of the radiator, though it's tapering off now that the engine is shut off.

"Damn," Furiosa says. His car is older, it has its share of problems, but a radiator is something they won't be able to patch on the side of the road if they hope to get home without wrecking the engine, even if they drive slow.

Max grunts in agreement as he slams the bonnet back down. "Got the map?"

They return to their seats to read it, the overhead light a cheerful yellow wash over the paper. There's nothing between here and the only town along the way, which is still more than a hundred and fifty kilometers away. They'll have better luck turning around and going back to the last little spit of a roadstop they passed, though neither one likes the idea of losing ground.

They drive in silence far slower than they normally would. It's not very likely that a short trip will overheat the engine, especially in the cool of night like this, but Max is understandably cautious about his car and Furiosa sees no reason to push things.

Since there's a bit of cell service available, she does send off a message to Capable letting her know they'll be later getting back than planned, since Capable is equally likely to be awake and to pass the message along.

>oh no!< Capable's reply reads.

>Car trouble< Furiosa sends.

>i'll let the others know. nux says thanks for the extra day off< Capable texts.

"Hmm?" Max hums, and Furiosa shakes her head.

"Just letting the girls know we're delayed," she says.

The town, if a town it can be called, sprouts up immediately from the side of the road with a few sparse-looking buildings.

"Dunno if they have a garage," Max grumbles as he drives painfully slow towards the scattered lights.

She hums in agreement and says, "We can try sleeping in the car, but I think I see a hotel up ahead." Even if there is a mechanic's shop, it'll be closed this late at night, and she doesn't think Max has traveler's insurance to cover a midnight breakdown.

He sighs, and they pull into the parking lot, more full of cars than she would have predicted for a town this size. At least they had originally planned on it being an overnight trip to begin with and aren't caught without clothes to change into.

There's no one at the reception desk when they arrive, just a bell on the counter and the faint sound of a television playing somewhere she can't see. Furiosa rings the bell.

"Yeah?" a voice says, a person appearing from around a doorway behind the desk, hair in disarray and blinking against the lights like they've just woken up.

"We need a room," Max says. "Two rooms."

The clerk yawns and sits down at the desk. "Sorry, lemme check but... yeah, we don't have two rooms. The auction's in town this week. You okay sharing?"

Furiosa exchanges a glance with Max; they'd shared just fine the night before. "Sure," she says. "What auction?"

"Livestock," the clerk says with a wave of their hand. "Sheep and goats and things. Biggest thing this damn place sees all year, lucky you. Hmm. This room's only got a Queen bed, you folks okay with that?"

Furiosa exchanges another glance with Max; sharing a room is one thing, but a bed- even a big one? "Do you have any cots?" she asks.

"No can do," the clerk says. "The two we have are in use already. Sorry. You want the room? There's camping outside, but no other hotel for more'n fifty klicks."

She sends Max a questioning look. She'll be alright sharing, or maybe taking the floor- it's just one night, after all. He doesn't look entirely comfortable but what options do they have? They risk the engine every time they drive it without the radiator working.

"We'll take it," she says.

"Great," the clerk says, and goes through the paperwork to get them set up. At the end of it they hand over an actual key, rather than a card.

When they open the door, their room is barely big enough for the bed that's crammed inside. Furiosa drops her bag in the narrow space besides the window and hopes they've at least washed the sheets after the last guest.

"I'll take the car," Max says after a moment of silence.

Furiosa shakes her head. "The seats don't even fold down," she says. It's one thing to catch some sleep in it when they're driving through the night, another to willingly sleep upright like that when there's a bed plenty big enough for the two of them, even if it means getting a little closer than either had planned.

He looks apprehensively at the bed, gaze dropping down to the ground. And she can read his intentions; like hell is he going to sleep on the floor when it's barely a big enough space to walk in.

"We're both taking the bed," she says firmly. "There's plenty of room. Now, you want the first shower, or the second?"

Max looks at her, and the bed, and the narrow door that leads to the bathroom. "You first," he says after a moment.

Works for her. Furiosa grabs her pajamas out of her bag and tries hard not to think about whether the showers were cleaned with bleach recently or not. Nothing _looks_ overtly moldy or in disrepair, but it's the type of place where she isn't putting much stock in its cleanliness.

Max hasn't really moved when she returns to the room, still staring off into space at the foot of the bed. She brushes past him and sits down on the side of the bed she's claiming, pleased to discover that the mattress actually seems pretty decent.

He shortly disappears into the bathroom and Furiosa once again is struck with the realization that he's naked just on the other side of a flimsy door. Not something she needs to be thinking about, and so she shakes her head firmly and climbs in under the sheets.

After a few minutes of the water running Max emerges and after putting his dirty clothes away, hesitates again at the foot of the bed.

"Just get in," Furiosa says. "I'm tired."

His eyes pull off to the side for a moment but then he nods, and gets under the covers with her.

Furiosa flicks off the lamp over the bed and they're plunged into darkness. "Night," she says, and Max mumbles a reply.

The bed is big enough that they don't touch, but it's a lot different to be sharing a single bed rather than just a room. She can hear him perfectly, every little move he's making as the sheets rustle, the sound of his breathing. Before long she can even start to feel his body heat seeping through the fabric between them.

She turns over on her side, facing away from him. It doesn't really help her awareness of him fade.

He smells like the same cheap soap she'd used moments ago in her own shower, but as that fades she can smell his own scent as well, the same one that's in his car and on his jacket. She's gotten more familiar with it of late than she ever had reason to before, but now there's nothing but the smell of clean sheets to distract from it.

Furiosa opens her eyes and stares at the faint light seeping through the covered window. She can hear Max's breathing, can feel the mattress move when he shifts, and it's so incredibly distracting she has no idea how she thought this was a good idea.

Eventually though, she does manage to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

She halfway expected to wake up tangled up in Max's arms, but instead they're mostly on their own sides of the bed still. One of his arms is flung out towards her, but when she gets up he only makes a sleepy noise and turns the other way without waking up.

She leaves to use the bathroom and when she re-emerges he's awake as well, sitting upright and yawning.

"Morning," Furiosa says.

He mumbles something entirely incoherent in reply, eyes blinking blankly.

She takes a moment to get a cup of water from the bathroom sink and in the time that takes, Max seems to have shaken himself awake properly. He excuses himself to the bathroom and she contemplates getting changed right then and there, but decides against it.

When he returns she's sitting on the edge of the bed, window curtain drawn aside to reveal the packed parking lot. His car is one of the few that isn't a ute of some kind.

"The receptionist probably knows if there's a mechanic's," she says.

Max grunts an agreement. "Could fix it ourselves."

She raises an eyebrow. If they were back at Citadel? Of course they could fix it themselves. But they're several thousand kilometers away from his garage, and there's likely no way to even _get_ the necessary parts and tools themselves out here.

He deflates at this silent rebuke. "Probably knows where food is, too," he says.

Now that sounds like a good idea, and Furiosa says as much. She grabs her clean clothes- and now she'll just have to hope they don't have any more setbacks, because this is her last set- and retreats to the bathroom to change.

When they're both dressed they lock the hotel door behind them and head down to the reception area. It's not the type of hotel to have breakfast available, though there's a single beleaguered coffee maker chugging away on the counter.

There's a new face behind the reception desk this morning, not that that's much of a surprise.

"Morning!" they say cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

Furiosa glances at Max out of the corner of her eye; he's looking at her as well. She elects to ignore the question. "Is there a mechanic's anywhere?"

"Car trouble, eh?" the receptionist says. "Yeah, there's Tommy's just down the street." The directions they give are esoteric and definitely not 'just down the street' but Max looks as though he's able to follow them, and Furiosa figures they'll be going slowly enough to work it out along the way, anyway.

The town is no larger in the daylight than it appeared at night. They find the garage with little difficulty simply because there isn't a whole lot else in town to confuse them.

"Well," the mechanic, a greasy-haired kid in a battered jumpsuit, says after they explain what the problem is. "A radiator's 'bout the easiest fix to make, no worries."

"We should have a block test done," Furiosa says. If it is just the radiator then they should be out in an hour or two, assuming this place has  suitable replacement, but if it's the head gasket or any of the valves- well, she doesn't want to risk driving back to Citadel sitting on that sort of problem.

"It's the radiator," the kid says dismissively, and turns away from her entirely to look at Max. "So you want to try and patch the old one or swap it out?"

Max looks uncomfortably between her and the mechanic. "Why don't we do that test," he says.

"You don't need to waste your time with that," the kid mechanic says. "Car like yours, you'd _know_ if there was anything wrong with it."

Furiosa grits her teeth and wonders if there's an auto parts store in town so she doesn't have to deal with this snot-nosed brat.

"Furiosa's right," Max says. "I'd rather we tested it."

The mechanic sends her a disgruntled look and sighs. "Fine, but I'm telling you, mate, it's just the radiator."

Luckily, a block test is easy enough to conduct. And equally luckily, the fluid that's drawn into the apparatus is a clear blue instead of sickly yellow.

"See?" the kid says, "What'd I say? Just the radiator."

His smugness is irritating, but Furiosa is much happier knowing that they're not dealing with anything more serious.

"You have a replacement?" Max asks, frowning anxiously down at his car.

"I've got one that'll do," the mechanic says.

Furiosa exchanges a look with Max; that could mean just about anything. A kludge might get them home, but would it be better to hold out for the proper fit?

"Show me," Max says.

The radiator that the kid shows them is clearly something he's patched up after someone else discarded it, and is entirely the wrong size to boot. Max's car has a big engine, and this radiator looks like it'll maybe cool off a four-cylinder.

Max shakes his head as he looks it over. "No," Furiosa says, and steps away from the radiator. "That won't do."

"It's what I got," the mechanic says. "I can try and patch yours up..."

She considers this. The patches on this spare radiator are acceptably done, but he presumably had all the time in the world to work on it. Who's to say what he'll manage given a few hours?

"How long?" Max asks.

The mechanic squints over at their car, bonnet still raised and the faint scent of boiling coolant in the air. "Might be driveable by tomorrow," he says, and shrugs. "Might be another day after that."

Furiosa looks at Max. "It's your car," she says. "We could get it towed. Or rent a flatbed and haul it back home ourselves."

Neither option is going to be cheap, but at least it'll get them on the road faster and they won't be paying some kid for a patch job and then paying again for the real deal.

Max frowns and scratches at his jaw, eyes fixed on his car as he thinks. "Okay," he says after a minute. "You can patch it."

She isn't sure that's the smart choice, but Furiosa says nothing. The kid's eyes light up and she wonders how often he gets anything more interesting than blown tires. Probably a lot, she would imagine, considering they're on the only highway in the area- but his enthusiasm suggests otherwise.

Max and the mechanic hash out the details, and then there's nothing to do but walk away and leave him to work. The day's heated up already and the walk back to the hotel is hot, the sun merciless.

There's a roadhouse to get food at and, since they hadn't packed enough food to last through however long this repair is going to take, they decide to get breakfast there instead of eating out of their supplies. The food's greasy but edible, the coffee strong.

She's surprised by how many people are in the roadhouse until she watches how quickly they turn over while she and Max have a leisurely meal. Families and groups and lone travelers bustle in, eat quickly, and bustle back out. There's only a few people taking their time like they are, and she wonders if they're locals or merely people-watching.

"Back to the hotel?" Max asks when their plates are cleared away.

Furiosa shrugs and considers whether there's any point in looking around the spit of a town they're stuck in. It's not really the place people willingly spend time in if they have other options, though she supposes the few people who live here must have _some_ way to pass the time.

"Let's walk around," she says. She could do with some activity after being cooped up in the car, and by the sounds of it they're going to be here a while- might as well see if there are any hidden areas of interest.

Max nods agreeably and they head out, walking a slow pace down the dusty roads. There's about a dozen buildings all told, plus some roads leading to what Furiosa would guess are farms.

A dusty ute pulls to a stop besides them. "You blokes want a lift?"

Furiosa glances at Max; she's alright just walking, but he might appreciate getting off his knee.

"The auction's just about to start for the day," the driver adds.

This piques her interest. The clerk at the hotel had mentioned a livestock auction as the reason for the rooms being booked full, and she did grow up on a farm. It might be interesting to see what sort of critters they're passing off as sheep these days.

"We're not doing anything else," she says to Max. He shrugs. "Sure," she tells the driver. "Thanks."

There's not enough room in the cab for the both of them so they climb aboard the bed, taking seats on the dusty plastic. It's a bouncy ride as the road becomes nothing more than packed dirt, and Furiosa can't help but smile at the memories of riding around like this as a kid, her and Valkyrie and the other kids clamoring to be driven anywhere at all.

The auction is outdoors, some rickety-looking metal stands assembled around a fenced paddock. In the middle the auctioneer stands on a platform made of old wooden crates while they're swarmed by small flocks of sheep, evidently brought as examples of larger flocks on offer.

Max almost immediately finds a dog and makes friends with it, while Furiosa just stands next to the fence and idly watches.

"You ever think about picking up and moving out someplace like this?" she asks when Max returns to her side.

He hums in answer. "It's a change of pace, for sure," he says.

She knows that she _could_ survive out here if she really wanted to, but Furiosa is also self-aware enough to know that modern city life holds enough appeal to see her coming back to it. She likes the outdoors, likes working with her hands, but she also likes an easy availability of air conditioning and takeout.

They watch the auction for a while, teasing one another about which flock of sheep they'd buy to start their farm with. Max keeps rooting for the underdogs, the flocks getting low bids with sheep even Furiosa can see are less woolly and meaty than others on offer. She finds herself having fun as she argues back and forth with him, the stress of being stranded less obvious, as if this was a planned pit stop.

Eventually though, there's only so many sheep they can look at before the novelty wears off. They've killed a few hours at the auction but things are winding down, and there isn't anything else to do but head back.

Luckily, they're able to find another driver willing to let them hitch a ride back rather than having to walk the long, dusty road.

 

* * *

 

The hotel room is no larger at night than it was that morning. The tv has a wide selection of channels, but it feels strange to sit together on the same bed and watch some movie or other, knowing neither of them is going to be leaving at the end of the night. At least at their hotel in Sydney they'd had separate beds to maintain a sense of personal space.

They eat dinner at the roadhouse, and afterwords Furiosa calls up Ace to talk about the shop while Max returns to the room. Ace says he doesn't mind sticking it out without her for a while longer, as if he has much of a choice, and updates her on some of the workings of the store, some orders that have gone through, sales numbers, all the boring aspects of being a retail manager.

When she enters the room again Max is in his pajamas, even though it's fairly early still. She considers getting changed herself and figures there's not much point staying dressed, since there isn't anywhere to _go_ , and excuses herself for a shower.

They watch some forgettable movie in companionable quiet, until it's late enough to justify turning in for the night.

"Would you have rather we had left?" Max asks when the lights are out. He's lying on his side next to her, facing her direction.

"No," she replies, mirroring his position, "It's fine." Being stranded in a tiny middle-of-nowhere town isn't her ideal vacation, sure, but she doesn't begrudge Max his decision. And besides, she kind of likes that she gets more time alone with him without any responsibilities weighing them down. They're not even the ones responsible for seeing that his car gets fixed.

He makes a quiet little noise and nods his head, but he still looks troubled.

"There's still time to buy those sheep," Furiosa says, and his face softens with a smile.

"Maybe next time," he says.

 

* * *

 

This time when she wakes up, she's overly warm and overly aware of the fact that Max is spooned up behind her, chest pressed to her back and arm wrapped heavy over her waist. His breath is warm and moist against the back of her neck, their breathing falling out of sync as she wakes up further.

They don't, as a general rule, touch very often. Her shirt's ridden up during the night and she can feel his skin warm against the sliver of her stomach, the roughness of the hair on his arms.

She can also feel the beginnings of an erection pressed up against her rear, and if she didn't know enough about men to know it's a meaningless reaction she might read something into it. It still sets arousal pooling between her hips at the thought of Max being hard for her, wanting her the way she wants him.

Furiosa stays where she is and enjoys the sensations for a few moments, her body warm and relaxed against his. Then she reluctantly extracts herself from his hold and hopes that he isn't aware enough of his current state to be embarrassed by it.

Indeed, when she returns from the bathroom Max only wakes up when she opens the curtains on the window, scrunching his eyes and making a displeased grunt.

"You can sleep more," she says, because it's not like they have a timeline here other than however long it takes for his radiator to get patched.

He grunts again though, and then stretches with a yawn, eyes opening. "Mornin'."

"Morning," she replies with a smile that she hides by looking out the window. There's a few less trucks in the parking lot this morning, enough fewer that they could probably book a second room if they need to stay another night. She doesn't mention this.

They have breakfast at the roadhouse again and then, for lack of anything other to do, return to the hotel room. They already exhausted the meagre sights of the town yesterday, and the mechanic will supposedly call later with an update on the car, which means there's not much to do but wait.

"We could watch the auction some more," Furiosa says halfheartedly. She's wearing already-worn clothes and hoping that the mechanic will tell them they can drive away tonight, before she has to repeat the experience.

Max hums, and makes no move to get up. They're once again sitting on the bed and watching the television, because there isn't really anything else to do. He has a book that he leafs through now and again, and she pokes around at her phone occasionally.

Around mid-afternoon Max's phone rings, and she listens will idle curiosity as he answers whoever is on the other end. The mechanic, she figures out pretty quick, and not with much good news.

"Okay," Max says curtly. "Thanks. Bye." He sighs heavily and puts his phone back on the bed next to him. "Radiator won't be done 'till tomorrow."

It's what Furiosa was expecting by the tone, but it's still a disappointment to hear said out loud.

"Let's go for a walk," she says, standing up from the bed abruptly. He cocks his head at her, obviously confused. "I'm tired of sitting around," she says, "And the air's cooling off. Let's go."

Max stares at her for another few moments before nodding. They get their shoes on and make sure to grab the room key and set out to explore the practically-empty streets of the wayside town. There's not much more to see that they hadn't already seen, but it's good to just get out and move a little.

The air gets cooler and cooler, and Furiosa finds herself regretting her choice to pack only lightweight shirts.

Apparently Max notices her chill because he suddenly shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out to her. "Here," he says when she doesn't immediately take it.

"It's not that cold," she says with a shake of her head.

"Take it," he says, and shrugs.

Furiosa hesitates a moment longer but does accept the jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. It's heavy and warm, especially after having been worn close to his body. "Thanks," she says, and he grunts in reply.

They walk to the edge of town and gaze out towards the bush surrounding them for a moment, the sun just about low enough to cast long golden-red shadows.

"Look," Max says, and points off into the distance.

She squints to see where he's pointing, and sees a blur of movement resolve itself into an emu moving against the dusty background. There are smaller shapes alongside it, and she smiles to see the little family making its way.

When the emus are gone from sight, she sighs and says, "We might as well head back."

Max hums a reply and they make their way back, in no great hurry. It's late enough for dinner and rather than head for the roadhouse again they stop by the general store to see what they can find there.

"They have marshmallows," Furiosa says, slightly confused to find them in such a small store.

"Isn't there a campground?" he says, picking up the bag. "We could roast 'em."

There isn't any reason not to, she supposes. They buy the marshmallows along with a package of sausages and head for the campground, where there are a few people set up camping.

Furiosa finds an unoccupied fire circle and realizes that they have nothing to actually burn. "We have no firewood," she points out to Max. Nor any sticks to roast their items on, either.

He hums, and looks around. There had been wood for sale at the general store, but she doesn't really want to go back.

"Be back," he says, and ambles off towards one of the campsites. She watches with some amusement as he apparently explains their plight, and is given a few branches and a larger cut of wood. He returns with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, a slight swagger in his steps that she's familiar with after knowing him so long.

"Matches," Furiosa says when he sets the wood down, and watches his expression fall. "I'll get some," she says, and pats his arm consolingly as she goes. She elects not to visit the same campers as he did, instead approaching a neutral-looking couple a few years younger than herself and Max.

They're happy to share some matches, and offer up some beer as well. "I shouldn't," Furiosa says, but their offer seems genuine- apparently they need to get rid of it before reaching their destination tomorrow, and can't drink it all themselves- and it's not like she has any place to be.

It's her turn to walk up with pride in her step, six-pack of beer hanging from her prosthesis while she brandishes the matches.

"How?" Max says, his tone playful.

"Guess I'm just that charming," she replies with a smirk, and then explains the circumstances.

In her absence he's set up the wood to best catch, and she strikes a match and lets it light up the kindling. The wind is a bit strong, but not so bad that the second match doesn't get the job done.

Within a few minutes the fire is burning well enough to break open the package of sausages, and they start in on the beer while the links cook.

It's a nice night out, she has to admit. With the fire she doesn't need Max's jacket anymore, but when she tries to return it he shrugs and says he's fine without it for now. It makes her curious and a little suspicious, since he never loans his things out if he doesn't have to, but there _is_ a chill in the air...

The sausages are cold in the middle and burned on the outside, just like proper camp food should be, and Furiosa eats her with relish. "Napkins," she says mournfully as she rubs the grease away from the corners of her mouth.

Max grunts and shows less compunctions about just using the hem of his shirt to clean himself. He reveals his stomach as he does so and Furiosa has to tear her eyes away so she doesn't stare at the skin he's uncovered, the curve of his hipbone above his jeans, the trail of hair over his abs.

She finishes her second can of beer and considers whether it's a good idea to have the third. She's feeling pleasantly buzzed now, and doesn't think one more drink is going to push her into dangerous territory, but she's wary of letting down her guard, especially when Max is just _there_ looking relaxed and golden in the light of the fire.

They start in on the marshmallows and Max opens his last beer, so she follows suit. The taste went well enough with the sausages but tastes awful mixed with the sweet marshmallows, and Furiosa smiles to see Max's nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Chug it and you'll get it over with," she suggests, only halfway joking.

He holds up his can and considers this, then holds it out. She's confused for a moment before realizing that he's waiting for her to toast him. Furiosa tucks her marshmallow stick between her raised knees and picks up her can as well, and they clash them together.

"Bottom's up," Max says, and in unison they gulp the remaining cans.

She can't help but laugh as she brings the can back down, nearly choking on the last swallow. It's something she might have done ten years ago without a second thought, but she can't remember the last time she chugged a beer because the taste was so cheap and awful she wanted to get it over with.

Max laughs as well, the alcohol enough to loosen him up just as it's doing to her. The marshmallows do indeed taste better without the beer to muddy the taste, and they eat their way through the entire bag, daring each other to eat the ones that turn a charred black.

When the food's gone and the beer's gone, they sit in silence for a while, listening to the other campsites and watching the dwindling fire.

"We should get back, I guess," Furiosa says when the fire's down to little more than embers.

Max hums agreeably and they stomp out the ashes, gather up their trash. It's a good thing they're walking home, she realizes as she stands up and the world wobbles around her. The beer must have been stronger than she thought.

They forgo showering and simply change into their pajamas, Max not even bothering with a shirt as he climbs into the bed.

"Tonight was nice," Furiosa says with a yawn as she shuts off the light.

He hums in agreement and she rolls towards the center of the bed, unsurprised when she finds him already there. She wants to kiss him but she is sure she hasn't had enough alcohol to justify that and instead she sighs, moving close enough to brush up against him. He doesn't tense up, doesn't recoil, and she relaxes and tucks herself more firmly into his chest.

Max lifts up one of his arms and loops it over her, his broad hand resting between her shoulder blades.

"I'm glad you came with me," he mumbles, mouth brushing against the top of her head.

"Thanks for inviting me," she says in reply. She can feel the bare skin of his chest under her hand and it's even more intoxicating than the beer had been, the twitching of his muscles as his chest rises and falls.

He hums, a deep noise that vibrates out from under her fingertips. "Thanks, for earlier," he says. "Being my date."

"It was nothing," Furiosa says, and yawns deeply. "We fooled 'em, huh?"

"Mhm," he replies. "It was nice. I'm... I'm glad you said yes."

She wants to repeat her reassurance that it was nothing, but when she opens her mouth nothing except another yawn comes out.

"Mm," Max hums, and his hand starts sweeping up and down the length of her spine. "Sleep."

That sounds like an excellent idea, and she readily complies.

 

* * *

 

It's not a surprise when she wakes tangled up in Max the next morning. It's also not a surprise that she can feel his erection hot and hard against her thigh, that she can feel an answering arousal coiling through her own body.

Furiosa doesn't want to get up just yet, doesn't want to brush this off like she had the day before. His head is pillowed against her chest and she opens her eyes to slits, looking down at his sleeping face and imagining him taking one of her nipples between his plump lips, imagines the way his facial hair would scratch against her skin.

She shifts slightly, her cunt giving an interested throb at the motion, and lets her legs slide a little further against his, feeling the pressure of his body where he's partially on top of her. It makes his cock rub against her thigh and he lets out a low noise.

He looks up at her with eyes that look like they've been awake a while and they both go still.

For a beat neither of them do anything, and then Max starts to shift his weight onto his hands, clearly getting ready to lever himself up and off and away. Furiosa wraps her arms around his chest and stays the motion.

He looks surprised, looks nervous, but he doesn't fight the hold.

Her eyes drop down to his lips and she imagines what would happen if she tilted her head down and kissed him. Would he run? Or would he reciprocate?

"Furi..." he says, his voice betraying how long he's been awake.

"Max," she replies, feeling the shift of muscles under the bare skin of his chest as he balances his weight.

Waking up aroused is one thing. She knows that men have little control over that, especially when there's another warm body to cuddle up to. But he woke up and he _stayed_ and he was still hard when she woke up and that means something, especially from him, and she's tired of neither of them ever making any sort of move.

She shifts her hips again, this time deliberately, letting her legs brush against his erection while widening her stance.

Max swallows heavily and then he surges up, breaking her weak hold on him. He could get up and run away if he wanted to but instead he just plants his mouth over hers.

She welcomes the kiss eagerly, reveling in the feeling of his lips against hers, the sweep of his tongue when she opens her mouth. Fuck but she's wanted to kiss him for a long time.

The kiss is wild, deep. He kisses like he's been starving for it, for her, and Furiosa gives back as good as she gets, biting at his full lower lip, sucking the skin just below the hinge of his jaw. His hips press down against her and she can feel how hard he is through the layers of fabric, her own legs shifting and opening to welcome him into the cradle of her thighs.

One of his hands pushes at the hem of her shirt and she arches her back, giving him better access. Max brings his hand up to cover her breast and she lets out a breathy noise, their kisses breaking off as they both pant for air.

His eyes are dilated wide in the dim light of the hotel room, blue-gray irises just a thin sliver around pools of black that threaten to swallow her up. Furiosa bucks her hips underneath his and grabs at the small of his back, wanting him close to her, closer. He groans and grinds himself down onto her, his hard cock pressing against her and sending waves of anticipation through her.

She wants them both to be naked, wants him to slide his cock inside of her. She takes her hand off his back and grabs for the hem of her shirt, wrestling with the fabric to get it off without dislodging Max.

Thankfully, he seems to pick up the direction of her thoughts, his hand leaving her breast to tug at the waistband of her shorts.

"We need," he says, "Do you have...?"

Does she have what, Furiosa wonders, before her brain catches up with her. She shakes her head. "I've got an IUD," she says, "It's fine."

He lets out an uncertain hum and she kisses him again. "Might be a condom in my wallet," she says, and really hopes it isn't a deal-breaker if there isn't.

Max levers himself back onto his haunches and looks down at her, eyes devouring. She isn't entirely sure why this morning of all days is the day that their soap-bubble of tension has broken, but she doesn't think a short interruption will be enough to kill the mood.

She slides out from under him and rifles through yesterday's clothes for her wallet, thankful to see a foil condom packet peeking out from one of the slots.

Strong arms wrap around her from behind as she sets the wallet back down and if it was anyone else with her, Furiosa would probably have swung her elbows back on reflex, maybe lifted her leg to kick at their shin. But it's just Max, and so she leans back into him as he presses himself against her, his mouth warm as he sucks a kiss to the curve of her shoulder.

She sighs and reaches back to grab his head, to hold him in place for a moment, her fingers digging into his messy hair. Then she pushes him back enough that she can turn around, and pushes him up against the edge of the bed so that he falls back.

He looks up at her with a trace of surprise, and no small amount of eagerness. Furiosa tosses the condom at his chest and pulls off her shorts and underwear with little fanfare before straddling his hips.

Max's hands automatically come up and grip her hips, his mouth open a little, lips pink and swollen from their kisses. A mouth like that was made for sex, she thinks distantly.

"Put it on," she says with a nod towards the condom.

He blinks, but a moment later complies. His cock is long and thick when he pushes his pajama pants down, big enough that her cunt gives a hungry clench to think about it inside of her. He fumbles with the condom but gets it rolled on and then Furiosa wastes no time in lining herself up, the head of his cock notching against the entrance of her cunt like it was meant to be there.

She sucks a breath in as she lowers herself down, the stretch a dull warmth in her muscles. It would have been easier if she played with herself first, maybe had Max get her off- she imagines his sinful mouth on her pussy and shudders- but she doesn't care. She wants him now, wants him before either of them comes to their senses and remembers all the reasons they haven't already jumped each other.

She has to work herself down slowly, rocking her hips back and forth as she takes each centimeter of his cock inside of herself. Max stares at her with eyes blown wide, mouth open and panting.

Finally she takes him in as far as he'll go, their hips meeting flush as she catches her breath.

Furiosa rests there for a moment, savoring the feeling of him filling her up, the fact that he's inside of her for real after how long she's wanted this. Then she begins to move, short grinding movements that have her gasping and moaning, her hand flying down to finally touch her neglected clit.

He starts rolling his hips up in rhythm with hers, compounding the feeling of his cock rubbing against the sensitive spots on her inner walls. Max reaches for her, hand finding her upper arm and coaxing her to bend down over him. It changes the angle, makes the penetration feel a little more deep, and she moans.

He reaches up and touches her breasts, rolls and pinches her hard nipples between his fingers and Furiosa shuts her eyes as pleasure builds to higher and higher levels inside of her.

She snaps them open again when Max starts thrusting up into her, short hard movements that jar her with every one. His face is creased, his chest damp with sweat. She wants to lick it all away and maybe she will, later.

"I," he says, rhythm stuttering and voice rough, "I need..."

She has a feeling the sex isn't going to last much longer and she makes a point of touching herself with intent, trying to coax herself up the hill of orgasm before he comes crashing down it.

Unfortunately she doesn't quite get there before Max buries himself in deep and groans, hand a bruising grip against her hip. They stay like that, panting to catch their breath, before Furiosa lets herself fall forward to rest her weight on his body, his softening cock slipping out at the movement.

They kiss now that they're within a range to, mouths moving sloppily against each other. She's still wound up and somewhat regrets rushing in, now, if only because she hasn't come and her cunt is throbbing with arousal still.

Max hums vaguely under his breath and slides out from underneath her, movements more relaxed than she thinks she's ever seen him. He takes care of the condom and pulls his pants off the rest of the way, but when he turns back to her there's still heat in his eyes.

"Can I, hmm, eat you out?" he asks.

For about the span of a heartbeat Furiosa is surprised by this offer, before nodding eagerly. "Yeah, of course," she says, and spreads her legs on the cheap hotel bedspread.

Max kneels at the end of the bed and takes one of her legs in his hand. He rubs his face against her inner thigh, his beard scratching the soft skin there, lips trailing kisses as he moves to the other leg. She squirms a little in anticipation, his breath hot against her skin and his fingers reaching at last for her cunt.

He parts her folds with his hand and licks in a broad stripe from her opening all the way to her clit, and she jerks in place at the sensation. He doesn't mess around, doesn't tease; he hones in on her clit immediately, licking and sucking with abandon and drawing all sorts of irrepressible noises out of her.

Furiosa's hand grips the sheets tightly as she rolls her hips up into his mouth, panting and moaning and distantly thinking that she should be quiet, the hotel is packed to the gills all around their room. When she glances down she can see Max working, his eyes intent on her as he practically devours her cunt.

She shouts his name when she comes, pleasure wracking her body and drawing her tight from her toes to her head only to release in waves.

Max pulls away when she's shuddered through the aftershocks, his face shiny with her, beard matted with it. He licks his lips. "More?"

"Use your fingers, too," she suggests.

He complies, mouth working her over while he slips his fingers inside her cunt where his cock had just been, still swollen from him. His fingers are thick, and he crooks them against the front of her walls, rubbing as he seeks out her sensitive spots.

He finds them, and Furiosa moans and grabs at his hair, holding his head in place. He moves his wrist smoothly, fucking her with a little twist to his movements, drawing out her pleasure. She can feel a particular pressure building and wonders if he's going to get her to squirt, if his fingers are going to keep going the way she wants them to. It's only happened a couple of times, never with a partner, but Max is touching her just _so_ and she thinks she might be able to get there.

"Like that," she encourages, flexing against him to get the rhythm just right. "Just like that."

He hums and the vibration transfers through her flesh, causing her to gasp. She wants to come now, but she can feel that pressure building, can feel the promise of something else if she holds out long enough.

Max doesn't vary the movements he's making with his hands, doesn't try anything new so close to the finish line. It sounds obscene, the sounds falling out of her own mouth along with the slick noises of his fingers fucking into her, the sound of him sucking on her clit.

She has no breath in her lungs when the pressure breaks, everything in her cunt going liquid-wet in a gush as she collapses in pleasure. Max makes a surprised noise against her flesh but laps her up eagerly, wringing her dry until she has to tell him to stop.

"You..." he says, face red and slick and dazed.

Furiosa hums in response, too pleased to find words.

He pulls his fingers out of her and drops it down below the side of the bed, and it takes her a moment to realize that he's touching himself, that eating her out got him hard again.

"Come here," she says, and drags herself a little further up the mattress.

He looks up at her for a moment before complying, his cock bobbing hard and red as he climbs back on the bed to kneel besides her. She considers having him fuck her again; but she's feeling sensitive now, doesn't think it would be as good an idea as it was before- and they only had the one condom, anyway.

She wraps her hand around his where it's gripping his cock and together they jerk him off, slicked with her own fluids. His stomach flexes and contracts with every stroke, showcasing the strong muscles in his trunk and reinforcing her desire to map them out with her tongue.

When Max comes he groans out her name, stripes of hot cum landing on her belly and chest.

He collapses next to her a moment later, breathing hard. Furiosa lets his cock go and brings her hand up to his chest, to his shoulder, his jaw. He nuzzles into the touch, eyes soft.

"Hey," she says quietly, because she can feel things unsaid lurking at the edges of the room and she wants to say this before the afterglow wears off and makes things difficult again. "This- _us_ \- is good."

Max swings his gaze away and licks his lips. She waits, patient and relaxed in the wake of some truly excellent orgasms.

"I don't know how to do, ah, this," he says after a long minute of silence.

She thinks about his ex-wife, and the fact that he'd known how to have a relationship back then. But then again, that relationship had fallen apart, and while she isn't going to plan out their future just yet she also wouldn't mind seeing Max continue to be a part of hers for a while.

"We don't have to _do_ anything," Furiosa says. "Just be us." They're already good as friends, who's to say that adding sex into the mix needs to fuck things up? She does have romantic type emotions for him, but it's hard enough for her to admit that to herself, let alone suggest they become a storybook couple just because they finally cracked open the sexual tension between them. They fooled everyone at the wedding into thinking they were dating with hardly no acting at all, who's to say the real thing needs to change them much at all?

He hums in answer, which is no answer at all. But he hasn't run, hasn't denied everything and expressed regret, and for now she's willing to accept that. They still have however long it takes for the radiator to get fixed and then at least another day on the road together before he _can_ run away, anyway.

Furiosa waits to see if he has anything else to say, but apparently he doesn't. She can feel his cum drying on her skin and it's uncomfortable, only going to get worse. "I'm taking a shower," she says.

He nods, and watches her as she gets off the bed and enters the bathroom. She could have suggested they shower together, but the stall in this hotel is pretty small, and she's learned long ago that two bodies in one shower isn't really as appealing in reality as it is in fantasies. She'd rather just get clean quickly.

He's still naked when she comes back out, wrapped in a towel because she hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes in with her. Max flicks his gaze over her and then ducks his head and makes for the bathroom himself.

 

* * *

 

It's awkward in the aftermath. There still isn't anything in the town to do except take walks or hang out in the hotel room, eating last night's leftover sausages and idly flicking through the television channels.

It feels strange to act like nothing happened between them, like she doesn't know what his cock feels like or how his face looks when he comes. But he clearly doesn't want to either talk about it or to spend the day repeating the experience, and Furiosa has decided not to push him for the moment. Maybe when they're somewhere with an actual escape route she'll sit them down and see if they can't talk things out like the mature adults they are.

Around midday the mechanic calls and says that he's patched up the radiator, and they head down to the garage to take a look.

The patch is sloppier than the one he'd shown them on the spare radiator, no surprise given the time restraint. But it holds fluid and looks like it'll last them long enough to get home.

Since the kid still seems uninterested in having anything to do with her Furiosa leaves Max to haggle over the price, instead walking back to the general store to pick up a last few things for the trip. Her eyes catch on a display of condoms and she thinks- but they'll be back home in another day, even if the idea of pulling over at the side of the road to fuck because they couldn't contain themselves makes her snort in amusement. She has more sense than to get naked and distracted in the outback, even if they _would_ be within shouting distance of the road should anything happen.

Max is already back at the hotel when she returns, packing up the last of his things.

"Ready?" she asks, and he nods eagerly.

They take it easy, not pushing the engine more than need be. The windows are down and hot air blasts them from all sides, tinged with that unmistakable wild scent you only find far from civilization.

"I don't know how to date," Max says unexpectedly some time after they pass the only other city before the edge of the Northern Territory.

She slants a look his way, but he's firmly paying attention to the road, eyes fixed forward looking for signs of trouble.

Furiosa considers this. She's dated casually, but what she feels for Max isn't entirely casual. "Do you want to try?" she asks, because that will pretty much determine whether this episode gets written off as a vacation thing, a fling brought on by too much proximity and not enough normality.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye and then looks away again. "I think," he says, so quiet it's almost swallowed by the noise from their windows.

"Okay," she says. That's more of a decision that she was expecting from him so soon, and the knowledge of it warms her even with the incipient chill of the coming night.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the trip back passes without incident. They drive slow and careful and the patched-up radiator holds long enough to get them back to Citadel, where their real lives are waiting for them. Max parks the car in front of her apartment and she feels strange, suddenly, to be leaving him behind. It's not that they haven't been out of each other's sights on their trip but, well, they have been essentially living in each other's pockets.

"See you around," she says awkwardly from outside of the car.

Max nods, and flexes his hands on the wheel. "Atomic on Sunday?" he asks.

"Of course," she says. She wouldn't miss their standing weekly meeting unless it was something urgent, and she doesn't think post-road-trip adjustments will fall into that category.

He doesn't smile at her, doesn't look relaxed by the confirmation. Instead Max stares at her intently for long enough that she wonders if she's missed something, if he's waiting for her to say something.

"What?" she says, shifting her weight uncomfortably on the pavement. She'd like to get inside if he has nothing else to say, to return to familiar surroundings and, honestly, to get a bit of time to herself after spending nearly an entire week in enclosed spaces with him.

"Maybe we could do it," he says, nonsensically.

"Do what?" Furiosa asks. Have sex again? She'd be down for it, is even pretty sure she has condoms in her medicine cabinet if he wants to come up right now, but she can't really imagine that he's propositioning her for sex in the middle of the sidewalk.

He blinks and shakes his head. "Maybe we could, could try being dates for real."

Oh. They'd broached the topic on the drive home, but she had assumed that he wasn't ready to make up his mind, and she didn't want to put him on the spot by asking herself. At least not until they were settled back into the normal rhythm of things.

"Yeah," she says, a smile growing on her face. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

His shoulders relax, and he smiles back at her, a soft expression she doesn't see very often. "Good," he says. "Sunday?"

"We can talk about it then," Furiosa says. "Atomic nights are not date nights." If they haven't been dates in the past, she refuses to accept that they'll be dates now. And he's her friend before he's anything else, if things don't work out she wants at least the chance to keep their friendship afloat with something that isn't romantic. And besides, she rather thinks she'd like a more proper first date than going to a bar they've frequented for over a year now.

His lips quirk up lopsidedly but he nods. "Deal."


End file.
